


a taste of domesticity

by distractionpie



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aprons, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Orgasm Delay, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 08:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11848095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: All Joe has planned is a nice dinner, but he's not going to overlook the opportunities presented to him.





	a taste of domesticity

**Author's Note:**

> Breaking the smut block ;D
> 
> Unedited.

The sides are all prepared and the steak just needs searing as Joe wipes his hands off on his apron as he turns the stove off.  He doesn’t even know how he ended up owning an apron but it’s come in handy tonight because in order to be ready and have the food done on time he’s already dressed up in his good shirt and he doesn’t want to get oil splashed back on it.

The way Webster has been talking he seems to think tonight is important, though Joe isn't sure what the occasion is supposed to be, their anniversary and birthdays are months away and it's no holiday he's ever heard of, but whatever it is it's obviously important to Webster so Joe is dressed up smart and cooking a nice dinner in anticipation of whatever it is.

He stacks the utensils he’s used by the sink as he ruminates on how he likes this kitchen and he’s gonna miss it when it comes to lease renewal time and the landlord jacks the rents up and forces him to move, something that already been done to both his neighbours. He’s not looking forward to trying to find a new place in the current rental market but his concerns are interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. A glance at the stove clock reveals that it’s 7pm exactly.

Goddamn Webster always having to be perfectly prompt.

He checks his hair in the hall mirror as he makes his way over to the door, reassured to see that the heat of the kitchen hadn’t made too much of a mess of it, and tugs the door open.

"J-...oh." Webster looks Joe over, seeming shook which Joe thinks is unfair because he might not dress as fancy as Web all the time but it's not that rare for David to see him making an effort to look good.

“See something you like?” Joe teases. Webster looks great, but with a face like that it's hard for him not to. His shirt sets off his eyes, but Web wears a suit and tie for work most days so his outfit isn't unusual. It's more of a treat for Joe to see him dressed down than up, soft sweaters and worn out jeans a better fantasy than cufflinks and pocket squares.

“Yeah.” Webster's answer comes out breathy and distracted as his eyes linger on Joe’s body but after a few moments he snaps back to alertness. “I... it's good to see you,” he says. “I brought wine.”

Joe rolls his as at the bottle as he ushers Webster inside. Two years and he’s still not sure if Webster's habit of bringing his own drinks is out of some over the top sense of politeness or if he just doesn't trust Joe to have any drinks in his apartment to suit Webster’s somewhat picky tastes.

“Food is nearly ready,” he says as Web follows him through to the kitchen.

As he stretches up to fetch the plates down from the cabinet Webster comes up behind him, running his hands gently up and down Joe’s sides as he tucks his head over Joe’s shoulder.

Joe grins. This meal, he suspects, will not be followed by hours of talking. He twists to brush a kiss over Webster's lips, only to find himself captured in a far more heated embrace than expected.

Webster’s hands rove his body and he moans softly into Joe’s mouth, clever tongue so distracting that it takes Joe several moments to notice the pattern to his touches and realise Webster's eager fingertips are tracing the edges of his apron.

He pulls out of the kiss, settling in Webster’s arms.  “Seriously?” he asks, plucking at the apron strings. “This does it for you?”

“I... what?” Webster asks breathlessly.

“The apron,” Joe clarifies. “That’s what's going got you all worked up, right?” He knows it’s a bizarre theory but Web had been staring and the apron is the only deviation from their normal routine that might explain Webster’s uncommonly frisky greeting.

Webster shrugs. “A bit?” he confesses, teeth worrying at his lower lip. “It looks good on you. I’ve never seen you wearing one before.”

“Don't usually have a reason to,” Joe says. Most of the clothes he wears to cook in he doesn't mind getting dirty. He turns back to the counter, waiting just long enough that he knows Web will have started to think the subject dropped before he asks, “Do you want me to wear it for you more often?” laughing when Webster splutters. “Or maybe you’d like to see me wearing it and nothing else…”

“Oh shut up,” Webster says, and Joe doesn't need to see his face to know he's pouting. “I don’t make fun of you for your thing about my reading glasses.”

“Who’s making fun?” Joe says, wounded. “I just wanna be aware of these things. I mean aprons, okay, but plain aprons like this one or do you wanna see me in something with lace and frills, like some old-fashioned housewife…" Webster's breath hitches. "Oooohh you do like that, don’t you?” Joe arches his back, pressing his ass up against Webster and feeling the bulge in Webster’s slacks rubbing over him. Wow. Apparently the apron kink is big enough to hit Webster hard. Joe grins to himself. Wearing an apron might not get him hot, but Webster’s reaction to him in an apron is certainly something he can enjoy. Webster’s always liked to listen to him talk and so he _talks._  

"I can just see it.” He leans back to rest his head on Webster’s shoulder. “You coming in from work to have me waiting in an apron with your dinner," he says. "Maybe even just the apron." Webster's face would be a picture, hell, a sideways glance shows he’s already turning a delightful shade of scarlet.

One of the hands Webster has on Joe’s waist slides down, Web squeezing Joe’s hip before rubbing teasingly at his crotch. “Yeah?” he gasps encouragingly.

Joe nods. "You know, I bet I would look fucking cute, all bare-ass naked except a frilly little apron,” he says, and he's losing himself in it now, rocking between Webster's dick and the gentle but persistent pressure of his hand.

“I could be all yours to bend over the counter, no need to worry about clothes, you could fuck me whenever you liked.” It’s an intoxicating thought - Webster’s strong hands against his back, pinning him down without a care for what the neighbours might hear or see through the open blinds...

“J-Joe, seriously...” Webster’s voice is a desperate whine by his ear and Joe stops, turns until they're pressed chest to chest, and takes in the sight of Webster red faced and breathing heavily. His pupils are blown so wide Joe can barely see the blue surrounding them. Webster is beautiful like this, glazed eyes and open mouth, his smart slacks doing nothing to suppress his straining erection. In these moments nothing exists for him but wanting Joe and how can Joe resist the temptation of dragging that out?

“You need a minute Web?” he offers, leaning back against the counter to put a little space between their bodies.

“Fuck…” Webster groans and the temptation to pull him close, for them to rut together against the counter until they’re both satisfied, is immense, but Joe’s put too much work into cooking this dinner to waste it and while Joe wants more he’s willing to be patient

"Don't want you having to send those trousers to the dry cleaner in a mess,” Joe observes and Webster's face is already too red for more blushing  but the way he bites his lip is as good as proof that Joe is right and that he had Web on the brink.

“Need a hand with anything,” Webster says in a strained voice, and Joe takes a little pity on him.

“No, you can go get settled at the table. I’ll bring the food through in few minutes.” 

They both like their meat rare but that's still enough cooking time that Webster could slip away to the bathroom and sort himself out but Joe knows he won't, that he'll wait – both for the sake of his pride and because he wants Joe badly enough to suffer the wait instead of taking the easy satisfaction of his hand.

Sure enough, Webster is sitting rigidly at the table when Joe enters, dishes in hand. Webster’s own hands are placed flat on the table, like he’s resisting the urge to adjust himself or maybe more.

Joe puts the food down and moves to his own seat. The first bite is amazing. He wishes he had more time to cook because when he does it’s fantastic. Across from him Web shifts in his seat and Joe wonders if he can even taste the food Joe had so carefully prepared – he’s certainly not looking at it.

Steak is not the easiest of foods to eat in a sexy way, if Joe had known this was how the evening was going to go he'd have cooked something a little more alluring, but he does manage to _accidentally_ spill a little salad dressing on his fingers and David groans aloud when he licks it off, so he feels he isn't doing too badly.

Joe can’t help but squirm himself in anticipation of what is sure to follow, how frantic Web will be when they finally get up to his bedroom, needy and desperate from waiting, his layers of poise and self-control stripped away as he surrenders to his basest instincts.

Their conversation is unfocused, Joe keeping it light and Webster only responding in nods and monosyllables. He waits until the meal is finished before he braces his elbows on the table and asks, “So, when do I get to find out what the special occasion is?”

“Special occasion?”

Joe bites his lip at Webster’s dazed reaction. “You said you had something to talk to me about,” Joe reminds him. “You tried to talk me into going to that overly fancy french restaurant uptown and I talked you round to a nice dinner here and a bit of privacy, which I’m enjoying but I still want to know what the big deal was.”

“…Nothing.”

“Your important thing you wanted to talk about was nothing?”

Webster blushes, avoiding his eyes. “It… well it’s not urgent.”

Joe looked around the room, faux-searchingly. “Oh well then, I guess I can understand how it’ll have to wait until we’re done with all the other urgent stuff around here, like… oh wait, there isn’t any.” Well, except sex. Joe is pretty eager to get to that, but he’s not the one who was on the verge of cumming fully dressed in the kitchen less than an hour ago so he’s willing to wait until Webster has said what he came for.

Webster glances towards the door. “I can think of other stuff we could be doing,” he suggests tentatively.

“I want to know now,” Joe says, frustration creeping into his tone. Sometimes trying to get Webster to his own points was like trying to nail jello to a tissue.

“Okay, fine,” Webster says, burying his head in his hands. “I was going to ask you to move in with me but now you’ve gone and made it weird with all the housewife talk.”

Joe is so glad he’d swallowed his beer because beer through the nose is never a nice feeling but he can’t help snorting with laughter. Fuck, he knows exactly what Webster means and it _is_ weird now, but fuck knows _they’re_ weird and so he says, “I’ve seen your place. You don’t need a housewife you need a librarian.”

Webster looks up with a sigh. "I’d make space for you stuff. If you wanted to I mean... I figured I wanted to put it on the..." Webster grimaces, "...to _suggest_ it. No pressure, I mean I know I can be kind of..."

And Joe can practically see it starting, the thing Webster does when he talks himself out of something instead of having the good sense to shut up.

“I think I’d like that,” he says as he gets up, rounding the table to settle himself on Webster's lap, which is always an effective way to silence him. “It’d make it easier to surprise you.”

Webster flushes. “You surprise me well enough already, I think,” he protests, and that’s true enough. Joe loves him off guard, how open he is with his reactions and how willing he is to follow Joe’s lead, and more opportunities for that already have his imagination running away with him.

He ducks his head, catching Webster’s lips hotly with his own. Webster welcomes him eagerly, arching up to meet Joe.

“Show me what I’m missing,” Joe murmurs against his lips and Web slides his hands around Joe’s thighs and stands.

“With pleasure.”

Joe tightens his legs quickly, gripping Webster’s hips. The huff of Webster’s breath is a reminder that Joe is lean but not that small and Webster’s workouts don’t tend to be big on lifts, but Joe’s apartment is only small and he’s pretty confident that Web can get them where they need to go. If there were in Webster’s place there’s be stairs to deal with, and that might be pushing their luck, but Joe supposes he could get used to fucking on the couch.


End file.
